First Date
by x-kate17-x
Summary: Sequel to Not A Date. Lots and lots of lovely Tateness, wooo! Oh, and here's a disclaimer because I always forget to put one in  I don't own NCIS or the characters.
1. Chapter 1

When Kate was twelve, she had sat on her older sister's bed and watched her getting ready for yet another date. She had fetched perfume when ordered, done up zips when ordered, pinned hair back when ordered. Hurried up when ordered.

It astounded her how her sister, who was the most impatient person Kate had ever met, would spend ten minutes applying mascara to every single eyelash just for a date.

It astounded her how she got so many dates in the first place, actually, what with being stroppy and bossy enough to be annoying, and not attractive enough to make up for it. Not that she was ugly – she wasn't. She was very pretty. She was just very, very irritating.

"What does it feel like, being in love?" Kate had asked, squinting her eyes and tilting her head to see past the thick fringe that always trailed in her eyes no matter now she styled her hair.

"All warm," she had been told. "Like there's a hot water bottle inside your stomach."

Tony certainly made her feel warm inside. But it was more in a blood-boiling, one-more-word-and-I'll-shoot-you kind of way than a lovey-dovey, hand-holding kind of way.

If he held her hand at work she'd break his arm.

But they weren't going to be at work, they were going to be on a date. And he had promised to behave.

Why the hell had she agreed to go out with him anyway? Once had been fun – but that wasn't a real date. There hadn't been any pressure to impress him or to have a good time. In fact, she would have been more than justified in having a crappy time, and spending the evening pissed off with two men instead of just one, which had been her original plan.

It wasn't her fault he'd practically forced her out of her sweatpants and t-shirt and into a dress and heels, and dragged her to the club round the corner. And it certainly wasn't her fault he'd poured enough alcohol down her throat to make her let him sleep not only in her apartment but in her bed, and to agree to go on a real date with him.

Not enough alcohol to give her a hangover though. Maybe she was sober… Or maybe she had built up a resilience to alcohol. Maybe she was going to be hangover-free for the rest of her life.

The first solution was slightly more likely.

It was also a lot less comforting. Denial solved all sorts of problems. And sure, lying was wrong… but only if you were doing it to someone else. If you were lying to yourself… well, that was allowed, right?

As she stabbed herself in the eye with her mascara for the third time, she took a deep breath to stop herself thumping the wall and bruising her hand. Why was she suddenly incapable of doing her own make-up? She did it every day. She'd done it every day since she was thirteen. There was no reason whatsoever for to suddenly be incapable of performing the most basic routines.

Wiping the black smudge from the bridge of her nose, Kate carefully swiped the wand over her eyelashes. This time, she managed to hold her hand steady enough to keep it on her lashes and not her skin. Success.

Scowling as she realized putting on mascara wasn't that great an achievement, she discarded the little black and gold tube and took her dress off the hanger. Her fingers brushed against her velvety skin, smooth and soft from her bath and the lotion she had massaged in, and she slipped she straps over her shoulders.

It had taken her absolutely ages to choose a dress to wear tonight. Originally she'd planned on wearing the red dress her cousin bought her for her birthday – but it was bright red, and kind of… well, bright. So she'd tried a dark blue dress she had, but it was too ball-gown-ish to wear on a date with Tony. Pink was too girly. Green was too Christmassy. Yellow was too summery. Silver made her look like she should be for sale at a jewellery store, and anything with flowers or swirls was too fussy.

Thank God for the Little Black Dress. Forget diamonds, the Little Black Dress truly was a girl's best friend. Coco Chanel should be made President. She clearly had a knack for solving problems.

Kate twisted awkwardly as she tried to pull up the zipper on her dress, unable to hold her arms at the right angle. She yanked it hard and it closed, ripping her fingernail in the process. She held her finger out in front of her so she wouldn't drip blood over her dress – it was black, so it wouldn't be glaringly obvious, but still. She didn't want to go on a date with Tony looking like she'd come straight from work-experience with Ducky, and she didn't have time to get changed or the will to go through the decision making process again.

She frowned as she examined her broken nail. Wincing, she licked her finger and grimaced as her mouth was filled with the sour, metallic taste of her own blood. Turning the tap on, Kate carefully washed her finger clean – blood-stained fingertips would ruin all her hard work – and went back to her bedroom, staring critically at herself in the mirror.

Twisting her hair up onto her head, then letting it fall again, before pinning it back up, Kate scowled at herself. It would help if Tony would tell her where they were going, then the answer to 'up or down' might magically come to her.

What was wrong with her? It wasn't like it would make a difference – Tony had seen her with her hair up and down. It was a bit late to be worrying about first impressions now – the first time she had seen him, she had called him pathetic, and threatened to shoot him.

Not a lot had changed over the last couple of years, really.

But… the Tony she was going on a date with wasn't the same Tony she fought with at work over who sat where in the car or who was being the most childish. It was like she was going out with someone totally new. And first impressions at work were far less stressful than first impressions on a date.

This Tony was what every other woman on the planet apparently saw when he smiled at them – charming and kind and funny, someone worth hanging out with.

It was a side of him she'd never experienced before. She'd seen him turn on the charm for all sorts of women, all the time. Suspects, co-workers, victims. Sometimes it was genuine, sometimes it wasn't. She'd just never been on the receiving end of it before.

He'd be off sweet-talking pretty girls, then he'd come back and revert to the loud and hyper-active Tony that she dealt with every day.

She had thought that she was the only woman on the planet who could see what he was really like. Looking at herself in the mirror as she fiddled with her hair, she thought that maybe she was the only one who couldn't.

After all, she reasoned, if someone told you they were the only sane person on earth and everyone else was utterly deranged, you wouldn't believe them.

Majority rule, and all that.

Kate finally secured the clip in her hair, deciding to just leave well enough alone. Tony would have to take it or leave it, she wasn't going to mess about with it any more.

There was a knock on her door, and she took a deep breath before sliding her feet into her shoes and picking her purse up from her bed. She opened the door, and smiled shyly. Tony grinned at her, holding a bunch of flowers awkwardly.

"Erm, here," he said, offering them to her.

"Thank you, they're gorgeous!" Kate replied, taking them from him. "I, uh, I'll just put them in some water. Do you want to come in?"

Tony shook his head.

"I'll wait here."

She put the flowers in water, and grabbed her jacket and purse.

"I'm ready," she said, the butterflies returning to the pit of her stomach.

God, why was she so nervous? It was only Tony. She probably spent more time with him than she did with anyone else, and he'd picked her up from work before when her car was in for servicing or whoever he was with the night before lived near her.

It wasn't like she hadn't spent time with him one on one before, either. Sure, mostly it was at work, but she'd gone clubbing with him last week. She could handle whatever he was planning. Anyway, she and her friend Moira had a deal – Moira was at home all night babysitting for her fiancés nephew, so she had promised to call Kate at eight and if the date was going horribly she would invent some sort of emergency to get her out of there quick-smart.

"You'll be fine," Moira had assured her, rolling her eyes.

"Please," Kate begged, wringing her hands desperately. "I have to _work_ with him, if it's a disaster it's going to be so awkward! Please?"

Moira had laughed and called her a drama queen, but had sworn to call the minute the clock struck eight. Sooner if Kate called her from the bathroom in desperation begging for help.

They were by Tony's car, now. Kate had been in plenty of flash cars, and she'd been in this particular one many times before. She didn't go ga-ga for men with Ferraris or melt when someone picked her up in a Jaguar. And sure, she teased Tony for being so attached to his car, but… it was nice, she had to admit. It was all clean and shiny and black and yes, it was just a car, but it was a nice car. And inside was pretty impressive too. The leather seats were soft and comfy, and it smelt like Tony's aftershave. It was like a little cocoon of Tony-ness. It wasn't 'stunning' or 'beautiful' or 'gorgeous', or any of the other words men used to describe their cars, but it was… nice.

Not that she'd ever tell Tony she thought so.

"Why are you staring at me?" Kate asked, seeing Tony grinning at her from the driver's seat.

"I'm just looking," Tony said, holding up his hands innocently. "You look good, is all, and I was just… looking at you."

Kate smiled shyly, biting her lip.

"Thanks."

"Welcome," Tony grinned, driving away.

Kate looked down at her purse, resting on her lap. She wasn't sure exactly why, maybe she was missing the part of her brain that stopped her doing stupid things, but she opened it up and rummaged through it for her phone.

She glanced at Tony, still concentrating on the road, and switched it off.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the really great reviews guys, you're so nice! This is the last chapter, I think, but I might do another one. I'm making up my mind.

xxx

* * *

Kate fidgeted and twirled the fringes on her shawl between her fingers while she waited for Tony. She didn't know why he wouldn't let her wait in the car – apparently it was 'easier' if she was outside.

If Tony was any other guy, Kate would have lost it about ten minutes ago when they had pulled over by the side of a deserted road and stopped by some trees. She'd scream and take her heels off and run away, or maybe beat him up herself, depending on how big he was and how much movement her outfit gave her.

But it wasn't anyone else, it was Tony, and she trusted him. So, even though she couldn't see anything – not a club, not a restaurant, not even a rickety old diner – she was waiting patiently by the car while he rummaged around in the glove compartment for… for whatever it was he was looking for.

It was quiet, with only the faint buzz of insects in the background and the occasional car driving by. They were out of the city, and it was getting dark without the lights from the apartments and office blocks. It always surprised Kate how quickly you could actually leave it behind you if you wanted – they had only been driving for about twenty minutes, and already they seemed miles from anywhere. If she looked over her shoulder, she could see the yellow glow on the skyline that reminded her she wasn't in the middle of nowhere, but it certainly seemed like they were. Yet another reason that she was grateful she was with Tony and not some random guy she'd picked up in a bar.

Tony finally slammed the car door shut and walked over to Kate, grinning.

"What?" Kate asked, eyeing him warily. That grin scared her – it was the grin he got at work when he was about to pull a trick on her and he knew she didn't have a clue.

"You trust me, right?" Tony asked.

"Yes…" Kate said slowly.

She did trust him. At least, she used too…

"I brought you a present," Tony said, holding up a strip of black fabric. "It even matches your dress, see?"

"Is that… you want me to wear a _blindfold_?" Kate asked, incredulous.

No. No way. She trusted him to take out enemies she couldn't see and to make sure she wasn't about to walk into a sniper's cross-hairs, and apparently she trusted him to bring her out into the middle of nowhere on a date, but she was not trusting him to put a blindfold on her.

It was simply not going to happen.

"Please, Kate," Tony wheedled, wringing his hands together desperately.

Kate recognized that tone. It was the same tone that managed to get him out of trouble with Gibbs when he handed his report in three days late, and that persuaded the blonde who worked in reception not to report him when he made inappropriate comments. Unfortunately, it didn't just work on pissed off bosses and offended receptionists. It had got Kate off her sofa and into a club just last week.

Still. It wasn't going to work this time. Absolutely not.

"You trust me, you just said so. I'm not going to do anything bad, and if you get scared you can take it off, I promise. I just have a surprise for you," Tony wheedled.

Sighing, Kate turned round so Tony could tie the blindfold over her eyes.

She could feel Tony's hands on her waist, guiding her carefully. His hands were warm and soft – softer than you'd think, after years of working for NCIS and digging around at crime scenes, and Kate giggled at the thought of him rubbing moisturizer into them every night. They felt safe, too. Gentle, but heavy and firm enough to give her faith that he'd protect her if he needed too.

The ground beneath her high heels sloped a little, and Kate stumbled, reaching out uncertainly for Tony.

"I've got you," he soothed, squeezing her and setting her balance right again before giving her a soft push to encourage her forward again.

A few more steps, and Kate felt his hands at her back of her head. He carefully untied the blindfold, and Kate blinked as her eyes adjusted. Tony stood grinning at her, practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his eyes wide and shining. "Do you?"

Kate stared around her, her mouth open. There was a lake, dark and still, spreading around in an almost perfect circle, with trees surrounding it and blocking it from the road. A few meters away from where they were standing was a checked red picnic blanket, with a picnic basket sitting in the center.

"It's amazing," Kate finally said, turning to Tony and smiling up at him.

It really was. The lake was beautiful, and nobody had ever put so much effort into a date for her before. Who would have thought that Tony would do something so sweet?

"I didn't even know this lake was here," Kate said, following Tony to the blanket and sitting down beside him.

"Not many people do," Tony said, pointing. "See that house over there?"

Kate followed his gaze to the other side of the lake, where the silhouette of a house jutted out over the land around it. It was pretty far away, but even from this distance, she could see it was huge.

"I see it," she nodded.

"It belongs to my friend Paul and his wife. All this is private property. They gave me permission to bring you here tonight; they're out at their son's school play."

Kate raised her eyebrows at him.

"What? You think I'd risk ruining our date by getting arrested for trespassing?" Tony grinned.

"No, just surprised you have friends who are beyond the mental age of twenty-one," Kate replied.

"Well, if you aren't going to be nice, you don't get the next part of the surprise," Tony retorted, folding his arms and sticking his nose up high in the air.

Kate felt a lot more relaxed now. This wasn't nearly as awkward as she had feared it would be. It was just like last week, when they'd teased each other and had fun. It wasn't scary at all – in fact, it was quite enjoyable. Very enjoyable, actually.

"I promise to be good," Kate nodded, pouting at Tony.

Tony leaned forward and kissed her pursed lips, making her giggle, before he sat up and put two fingers in his mouth, whistling loudly.

A man emerged from the bushes, dressed smartly in a tux, carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"This is Henry, Paul and Barbara's butler," Tony explained to Kate, waving at him.

Henry bowed slightly towards Kate.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he said solemnly.

"Erm, good evening," Kate said, smiling.

That was kind of weird, she had to admit. To Tony, who had grown up with money, and had his own butler and several maids when he was young, it was nothing. Sure, he had learnt to appreciate it more since he had left home, but he was used to being waited on. It wasn't a big deal to him. Kate found it a little strange, if she was honest. Her family hadn't been poor or anything, but they didn't have any servants bustling around the house. And even if they had, there was no way they would have been able to keep such an air of calm around them. Her family wasn't dysfunctional, but it was big, and even her own mother had struggled to keep her sanity when all the kids were running about screaming at the same time. This guy Henry radiated composure and control.

Henry handed her a glass of champagne, and she smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said.

"Don't drink that," Tony frowned, as Kate lifted the glass to her lips. "We haven't done a toast."

"Sorry," Kate said, lowering her glass. "Sorry. What do you want to toast to?"

Tony raised his glass.

"To you," he said, smiling at her over the rim.

"You can't, what am I suppose to toast?" Kate protested.

She could toast Tony, of course, and it wasn't like she didn't want too. But she didn't like it when the toast wasn't the same for both people – she didn't really know why, it just didn't feel right. And especially tonight, when she was feeling so safe and comfortable with Tony, so close to him, like nothing could touch them, she wanted them to be able to toast the same thing.

"Alright then," Tony said. "To Us."

"Us?" Kate asked.

She wasn't sure she was entirely comfortable with that. Sure, she liked Tony – a lot – and she was having a wonderful time already, but… she wasn't sure if she was ready for her and him to become an 'Us'. That was kind of… relationship-y, and she didn't know if she actually wanted a relationship with Tony. Besides, 'Us' implied a lot more than 'me and you' did. She hadn't been an 'Us' for a long time – all her recent relationships had ended before they passed the 'me and you' stage.

"Are you always so difficult?" Tony asked, smiling.

"Sorry," Kate said, tapping her fingers on the side of the glass and looking down at the picnic rug. "I just… I don't if there is an 'Us', you know? I mean, there's you, and there's me, but… I don't know, Tony, this is only one date, and I need to think about it. I'm really sorry -"

Tony nodded, putting his glass down on the floor.

"That's okay," he assured her.

Kate looked at him doubtfully.

"It is," he promised, putting one hand out and gently stroking her cheek. "Let's just leave the toast for now and just have fun, okay? That's why we're doing this, right?"

Kate smiled, resisting the urge to nuzzle her face into his palm and purr. His hand was so soft and tender on her skin, she just wanted to curl up against it. She remembered last Friday, when she had fallen asleep in bed with his arms wrapped around her. She'd felt so safe, so protected, with him curled up at her back, and that's how she felt now with him cupping her face.

Of all the men she knew, she would have thought Tony was the least likely to sleep in her bed with her and not try anything. He hadn't, though. He'd been the perfect gentleman. Well, after he invited himself into her bed, anyway. He hadn't 'accidentally' brushed against her while she slept, or stared too long at her pyjamas. He hadn't even stolen the duvet. All he did was hold her for a bit, then fall asleep himself. Kate had woken up the next morning, and initially had though it was a dream because he wasn't beside her anymore. Then she'd noticed the smell of his aftershave lingering on the pillow and the slight dent in the mattress that was deeper than the one she left and shaped differently, and thought maybe he had gone. It was hardly surprising, really – this was Tony, after all – and it was probably for the best. But then she'd gone into the kitchen and he'd been making pancakes and whistling alone cheerfully with the morning radio, and she'd been so overwhelmingly happy to see him prancing around in his boxers and his shirt from last night that she had forgotten that not having him there was 'for the best' and had actually let him dance with her and mime singing into a spatula while she laughed at him until tears were running down her face and she couldn't breathe properly. They'd eaten breakfast together and showered – separately, despite Tony's begging and protests that he was 'scared of the shower monster living in the bathroom' – and then he kissed her on the cheek, making her turn scarlet, and gone home.

"Are you hungry?" Tony asked, opening the picnic basket and rummaging around.

They ate slowly, sometimes laughing and talking and sometimes in silence. When they were talking it was fun, flicking bits of food at each other and threatening to throw one another into the water. When they were quiet it was nice too – Kate thought that maybe silence would be uncomfortable, with them both trying to think of something to say, but it wasn't like that at all. It was comfortable and natural, and she realized about an hour after they were through eating that at some point she had discarded her shoes that now lay beside the picnic basket – obviously put there by Tony, because they were dropped in a small heap, and she would have put them neatly side-by-side – and she was now laying down on the rug with her hands behind her head and her feet in Tony's lap.

"Get off!" Kate squealed, as Tony traced small circles onto the soles of her feet with his fingers. "That tickles!"

Tony grinned at her, and Kate narrowed her eyes back.

"Ticklish?" he asked, his fingers hovering above her toes.

"Um, no," she lied.

Tony closed one hand around her ankles and tickled her feet with the other, laughing as Kate wriggled and thrashed around, giggling and shrieking, begging for mercy. But Tony had her ankles tight, and she couldn't do much more than kick her legs and scream.

"Stop it!" she pleaded, laughing as he stroked the bottom of her feet.

"But why, Kate?" Tony asked innocently. "You aren't ticklish."

"I am!" Kate squeaked, as she tried to sit up and grab him. "I am!"

Tony let go of her, and she tried to glare at him, but she was laughing and panting too hard to pull it off.

"You're mean," she said instead, pulling her legs away and tucking them underneath her.

Tony just laughed, and a small breeze floated across the lake. She shivered, and Tony looked concerned.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"Are you going to give me your jacket again?" Kate smiled, remembering last week.

She had been cold then, too, and he had given her his jacket to wear even though he was cold himself. It was sweet of him, but she didn't want to take his coat from him again.

"No, come here."

He held his arm out, and Kate crawled over the blanket to him. She curled up against his warm body, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He picked her shawl up from the ground and carefully covered her with it, tucking it over her shoulders.

"Better?" he asked.

Kate nodded, snuggling closer to him and sliding her arms around his waist. She didn't have a clue how long they'd been there, it could almost sunrise for all she knew, but somehow she didn't really care. Still, the organized part of her couldn't relax not knowing what time it was, so she reluctantly lifted her head from Tony's chest and looked up at him.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Erm… ten past twelve," Tony said, unhooking his arm from Kate's back and checking his watch.

"It's late," Kate observed, as he put his arm back.

"Do you want to go home?"

"No."

She didn't. Normally when she was on a date, she was painfully aware that even though it was a Friday night and she could do whatever she wanted, it was entirely possible that Gibbs would call at five in the morning with a new case and she'd have to get up and go to work. She knew it wasn't fair on the other person, but she could never quite get into the date and stop thinking about work.

Maybe it was because Tony would have to go to work as well as her, if Gibbs called, or maybe it was because she knew he wouldn't get annoyed with her, but she'd totally forgotten about work and crazy hours and having no time for a personal life. If Gibbs had appeared right there and ordered them to go to NCIS, she probably would have told him to get lost.

The food was long gone, and so was the tub of ice cream that Henry had brought out – how it wasn't totally melted was beyond Kate. Maybe Tony had some sort of mini-freezer in his car. The only thing left in the picnic basket was the almost empty bottle of champagne – that they had drunk without making any toasts because Tony wouldn't think of any sensible ones and Kate didn't want to toast McGee's elbow or Abby's new tattoo – and a can of pepper spray.

Tony had said he had brought it 'just in case'. 'Just in case what?' Kate had asked him, and he'd proceeded to reel off a list of increasingly unlikely dangers such as 'crocodile attacks' and 'alien abduction'. When Kate had pointed out that if they were to be attacked by crocodiles or aliens pepper spray wouldn't be much use, Tony had admitted that he had run out of spices at home and thought maybe pepper spray was edible. Fortunately, he hadn't eaten any of it.

"We should finish that," Tony said, gesturing at the champagne that he couldn't reach because Kate was nestled into his arm.

Kate reached forward and passed him his glass, picking up her own and the bottle of champagne.

"Are we going to toast?" she asked, pouring the last drops of liquid into the glasses.

"If you can think something you're happy to toast to," Tony teased, poking her playfully in the ribs. "I have never, _ever_, in my entire life, met anyone who's so fussy about what they make a toast to."

"Well excise me for not wanting to drink to your fingernails!" Kate exclaimed, wrinkling her nose up in horror. "You're disgusting."

"Are you going to toast or are you going to call me names?"

Kate rolled her eyes at him, and raised her glass. Tony held his up too, waiting patiently.

"To Us," Kate said, softly.

"Us?" Tony repeated. "Are you sure?"

"I don't toast things I'm not sure about, Tony."

Tony grinned and clinked his glass against Kate's, making the champagne inside slosh against the edge.

"To Us," he echoed.


End file.
